


Licking Your Plate Clean

by WitchQueen (zvi)



Category: Farscape
Genre: Alien Sex, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-12
Updated: 2000-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-02 01:53:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zvi/pseuds/WitchQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which John successfully executes his plan, and D'Argo laughs at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Licking Your Plate Clean

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before I'd ever seen the Premiere, in which it is clear that  
> neither humans nor Sebaceans are seriously adversely affected by D'Argo's tongue  
> poison. Just pretend with me, it's important to the story.

John nuzzled at his lover's torso. He licked along the swirling blue tattoos, tracing a path that finally ended where a human's pubes would be. He blew warm air across the Luxan's genitals, three little holes lying there, waiting to be tortured and teased with warm, wet pressure.

"Lick," panted D'Argo. John frowned. /People should at least have the courtesy to _pretend_ they're incoherent when you're giving them a blow job./ Then he grinned, rubbed a friendly hand in the crease between his lover's thigh and his crotch. /Maybe if I had the courtesy to pretend I was paying attention to the blow job./ He licked all around the circles that led into the familiar body. /I will never understand how these mivonks contribute to the making of little bitty baby Luxans. Maybe if I saw a naked lady Luxan./ "Hey, D'Argo --"

A big hand moved from where it had been stroking John's naked back, grabbed the back of his head, and pushed his face back in the little triangular patch formed by the mivonks, that oh so sensitive mivonken. "Sex now, talk later," whimpered D'Argo. "So close, so close, so close!"

John could tell by the sudden rush of heat to the raised patch of flesh that it was true, that D'Argo was about to come any second. /This time I will *not* be licking up the orange one./ He brought his hand up from where it had been playing with D'Argo's big, strong thigh. He fingerwalked his way to the mivonken and pressed hard to the center. This had the benefit of both delaying his orgasm and making him groan with pleasure. And when D'Argo groaned, D'Argo vibrated, and John's dick, pressed up against D'Argo's calf, thanked them both and jerked around a bit in excitement. John groaned a little, too, right into his baby's love dots, and D'Argo squirmed with pleasure. Then the human brought his head up, slowly, looking at his lover. D'Argo snapped his eyes and mouth open, tried to say something but couldn't quite force the air out. John raised a finger to his lips, and the Luxan frowned, trying to remember what the hell that meant. When the idea of silence made it through his sex-addled brain, he laid his head back down and groaned again, loudly, to reward John. Then John stuck a finger in a mivonk, and D'Argo whimpered. Finger two, mivonk two, a squeal. Finger three, mivonk three, and a decidedly girly scream. When John pulled his fingers up, but not out, one, two, three times, D'Argo groaned, D'Argo shuddered, D'Argo came with a shout and the force of his fluids pushed John's fingers out of the rapidly expanding holes.

D'Argo stretched and twisted all of his newly relaxed muscles, but the three separate globes of crystalline jelly slid around only a little on his tummy. "Sex now? Eat now? Talk now?" he asked, his voice having returned to its normal register but his sentence making ability still off in Well-Fucked Land.

John sat back on his lower legs and grinned. That last bit of shaking had not gotten him off, but it had certainly gotten him ready. He reached out and scooped up the green glob in the center of D'Argo's stomach. He licked about half of it off of his palm and moaned as a flavor suggesting hot blueberry shortcake hit his tongue. /I used to get weirded out by the idea of blueberry shortcake. Although, I suppose one can get used to anything over the course of ... shit, we've been fucking almost three months. And I've only figured out _now_ how not to eat the orange?/ He used the rest of the green gel to slick up his cock. He knee walked up the bed and over his lover's middle and muttered the now ritual, "You know, the green ones really _do_ make me horny." Then he slid his way into the topmost opening in one smooth stroke and just rested there, balls deep, as D'Argo held onto his thighs and let the internal muscles tighten up just a little. He could feel the internal ripples all up and down his cock and he sat back a little, keeping most of his weight on his own legs, and contemplated letting D'Argo do all the work.

But he wasn't feeling that lazy today and his dick was feeling restless, so he began sliding in and out, very fast but without much force in the thrusts. /I will never, ever kill you with sex./ John repeated this little mantra, this little warding against the awful nightmare of internal tearing making D'Argo bleed to death every time they did this. Then D'Argo's eyes widened and John stopped, John froze, scared that he had killed him this time. "D'Argo?" he croaked. "D'Argo love is something wrong did I hurt you oh shit I told you I wouldn't I-"

D'Argo raised a hand from his thigh and slapped it over John's face. "Breathe, Crichton. You talk and think too much in bed." He pushed up a little with his hips, to demonstrate just how fine he was. Then he did it again, like he couldn't help himself. "Good angle," he rumbled, as he picked up the rhythm. "Come twice," he added helpfully, this time his voice going up an octave.

And John laughed behind his lover's palm and pushed back a little with his hips. And then he licked D'Argo's hand and laughed again because the skin, like always, tasted like maple syrup. And really, D'Argo was having such a good time pushing up on John's dick that he decided he could concentrate on his lover's hand. So, he grabbed the wrist and proceeded to kiss that big, strong hand all over. Little, dry, butterfly kisses, on the back of the hand and front of the palm and the tips of the fingers. He was really getting into this, really enjoying loving D'Argo up with his mouth when suddenly D'Argo _twisted_ and D'Argo was coming which meant the mivonk was _vibrating_ and shooting liquid and really that was just too much, especially since his balls were getting bathed in warm wetness from the other two holes, so John came, too.

When John came down a little off the high that was orgasm, he realized that he was really sitting squarely on D'Argo's hips, with all his weight on his lover. And also that the hole was starting to strangle his cock, so he said, "I'm going to pull out," and he did and he flopped on his side and he sighed, totally relaxed, really contented.

And then he remembered his plan, his plan to get around the Luxan insistence that all bodily fluids be put back inside a body before sex could be said to be completed and he looked down at his cock, hopefully. /Hallelujah, praise the lord, it's all covered in orange!/ So, he reached onto D'Argo's tummy and grabbed the rest of the orange stuff and spread it around his crotch. And he sighed because it was still warm and it felt real good going on, even if it didn't taste so hot. Then he grabbed the blue-purple colored jelly and he licked it up. And he hummed contentedly when he was done eating that, because _it_ tasted like hot apple cider with lemon juice and a splash of rum, and he liked that. "D'Argo, babe, are you going to lick my crotch clean or have you fallen asleep?"

D'Argo, who hadn't fallen asleep but was stuck in a sort of post-coital stupor, snorted. Then he woke up a little more and said, "Sit on my face."

"Can't move." It wasn't strictly true. He didn't want to move, his muscles were all loose, and the cider-flavored come made him think of his grandmother's house, and he couldn't exactly go sit on some alien guy's face while he was thinking of his grandmother, now could he? /I am a puddle of immovable Crichton-goo, and I'm not not going anywhere, buddy./

D'Argo growled and whined and whimpered a little, but when he saw that his non-verbal communications were not resulting in any movement on John's part, he gave it up for lost. He slithered down the bed and rested his head on his lover's thigh. "I hope you know the great sacrifice I make for you," he muttered. Then he sniffed, so he knew what he was getting into. The first overwhelming scent was of the orange fluid, the one that mostly served as a lubricant. Then, a hint of semen, that liquid which was most closely analogous to his own green secretion. And lastly, the warm, familiar scent of John, a flavor which he had lately come to notice permeated his quarters, even though they were still officially living apart.

Then he stuck out his tongue and began licking John clean. He knew John was always fearful about penetrating him, and he knew that now, when he caressed John with his tongue, he felt a parallel fear. He was very, very careful to keep the tip of his tongue safely pointed away from his lover's body, while he used the middle portion for licking and swallowing. They didn't _know_ that his poison was harmful to humans; it produced a strong hallucenogenic effect in Sebaceans rather than death. But they only had John to experiment on, and besides, he wasn't sure that a year trapped in your own worst nightmares was better than death anyway.

When he was done, he carefully swallowed his tongue back up and crawled along John's body far enough that he could rest his head on the human's shoulder. "I know what you did, John."

"Did?"

And D'Argo knew he had him, knew that the one word response was the best indication that his lover had been caught doing something silly. "You made me drink the orange." He turned his head and placed a kiss on a nipple. The idea of kisses (and nipples, for that matter) were things John had introduced to him. He liked kisses, they were sweet. /But I don't think I'll ever figure out what a nipple is for until I run into a naked female human./ "Why? Do you not like the orange?"

"Well, actually, D'Argo, the orange isn't my favorite flavor in the world. Or, rather, it's not so much the flavor as the temperature."

"The temperature?"

"Yeah, well, you see, the orange come tastes just like a Wendy's Frosty. They're supposed to be cold. They're supposed to be frozen. It's just very, very wrong for them to be even room temperature, and your come stays really hot when we leave it on your stomach."

D'Argo broke out in gales of laughter. He was snorting and snickering and chuckling and guffawing and quite suddenly he rolled off the bed and went thump! but he continued to laugh for a few more seconds.

"What's so funny about that?" John demanded. /I thought he might be insulted if I said something. I didn't think he'd be ... amused./

"Semen tastes like bimanchi," D'Argo snickered. "Bimanchi should be frozen." Chortle, gasp. "I couldn't explain that to you." Small giggling fit. "So, I asked you to ejaculate inside my body because I did not want to eat it hot." Long, tired sigh. "We are stupid dren."

/I wonder if this is what it's like to feel pole-axed. I can't believe we had the same problem and didn't say anything./ He looked down at his lover. /No, I can believe it. I most certainly can believe it./ "We could freeze it, to eat later."

"John!" gasped D'Argo. "That's really, that's really --." He smiled, a big, wicked smile. "That's really kind of kinkoid."

John snickered, kissed the top of the Luxan's head. "That's me, baby, kinkoid all the way."


End file.
